Move With the Wind ((O))

The wind here was strong enough to knock a wolf off their paws as it worked to push the incredibly long grass flat, making an ever-rolling wave of silver in the moonlight. In the distance a small streak of black flowed with the wind the lean and lithe figure flowing with fur. The fae's ears were pinned back, her russet streaked tail flowing behind her while her paws pushed into the dirt, a blur beneath her form. She ran for the fun of it, to feel the strength of the wind and be able to move through it, with it, to be one with the air and to manuver these lands with precision and skill. Destra knew every single pawstep of these plains, over the years she had wandered the grasses it she had become the shadow of the land, the remnant of what was striven for by stayed only fleetingly.

Ahead, a boulder jutted out of the wind-flattened grass and with outstretched paws Destra's sturdy paws and strong claws dug into the hard stone, propelling her forward in an elegant lunge before she landed amongst the brush, pausing to catch her breath. Her crimson eyes were alight with excitement, accenting the rich deep russet markings that were brushed underneath them, her muzzle an elegant painting of a lolling pink tongue over pearly white teeth, surrounded by deep russet and black, and her nose was a shining ebony stone. As the smell of rabbit brushed past her nose Destra's large ears flicked up, alert to the movement amongst the wind but she did not bother to move, to chase, as she felt no hunger. All she felt was the pleasure of her tired and shaking legs and the cooling breeze of the wind through her fur.

She stretched then, her one russet socked left leg reaching with her other foreleg to pull her torso forward; she was suddenly aware of just how long she had been running, as she had been chasing the breeze since just before dawn and barely stopped this late into the dark night. Her russet striped black back cracked quietly and Destra sighed deeply, shaking out her limbs to bring new life to her long black fur.

The heavy scent of lust and longing grew pungent in the air the more she paused to smell the air. It was almost sickening to her as it smothered the rest of the smells that would normally be aromatic in the plains. It was more obvious that she was not here for a mate to be found, as a matter of fact she would hate to be approached as though she were. Still, she waited, panting and now too exhausted to really do much but lay there and rest.